Growing up is Hard It's Hard and Nobody Understands
by Salem Hazel
Summary: A series of humanstuck one shots, all taking place in the same universe. It follows the lives of sixteen wayward teenagers, their older siblings, parents, and the difficulties they face as they grow into adults. Rated T for cursing, violence, and drug use.


Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are currently hauling your lousy excuse for a best friend off the snow coated sidewalk at 7:00 in the evening, shaking him roughly by the shoulders in order to get him fully conscious.

"HEY. IDIOT. GET YOUR ASS… OFF THE GROUND… AND GET... THE FUCK... UP!"

You punctuate your speech by way of jerking him up every time he seems like he might vaguely consider sitting down again. He looks utterly disoriented, grabbing you for support, and you nearly balk. His hands feel like some smoke sucking dickhead thought it would be funny to make an exact likeness of your best friend, then pull some RL Stein shit and bring it to life with some magic, or, as Eridan would put it, 'science'. Anger spikes in you, and you shake him harder,

"OH MY GOD, HOW FUCKING LONG HAVE YOU BEEN OUT HERE?!"

You practically scream at him.

"I KNOW THIS IS NOT THE FIRST FUCKING TIME I'VE LUGGED YOUR SORRY STONED ASS OFF THE STREET, BUT TWICE THIS WEEK?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!"

Gamzee visibly flinches, and you internally smack yourself in the face for yelling like that when he was obviously confused. Growling, you drag his arm over your shoulder, and start heaving him back towards your house.

"Okay, what's the fucking reason this time?"

You aren't yelling anymore, but he still winces.

"Kuloz up and motherfucking forgot to unlock the house again."

His voice is soft and slurred, his clown makeup smeared, and he is shaking pretty hard, stumbling occasionally. Who wore a t-shirt in this weather, seriously?! You walk a little faster. By the looks of him, he wasn't stoned, so you were in for a sleepless night of withdrawal symptoms. Again. You sent a silent prayer to whoever gave a shit that Kankri wasn't taking one of his hour long showers, and that your dad wouldn't mind the fact that 50% of all juice and oranges in the fridge would be depleted by the next morning. You hoped it'd go fine, since Dad liked Gamzee... sort of. He didn't like he smoked the way he did, but he made it very known that he blamed Gamzee's father, Grant for it for it. Technically, Dad had been trying to get a lawsuit with Gamzee's father for neglect and emotional abuse, but the authorities just ignored it and said they had no such records, which was obviously utter bullshit, but he couldn't really do much about it. Considering Grant's reputation, it was really no surprise. Any sane warm-blooded creature would stay away from that fanatical shit Gamzee called his father. You finally reach home, noticing a car pulled into the driveway. The shade of green was unmistakable; Dolores was visiting. You didn't know whether this was good or bad. Dolores had a hatred for the Makara family like no other. One way to find out whether she'd except Gamzee...

=== Knock on the door.

You knock on the door alright. You nearly pound it down, and probably would, except your good arm was currently busy in the act of keeping your best friend from falling on his ass. You pound on the door again, this time with your foot, and promptly stub your toe, releasing a string of curse words just as Kankri opens the door looking exasperated,

"Please Karkat, Father spoke about kicking the…"

He trails off at the sight of Gamzee on your arm, slouched and looking half conscious. He raises both eyebrows in surprise, opening his mouth again, which you dodge by cutting him off loudly,

"Just shut up Kankri and let us the fuck in!"

You snarl, not even waiting for a response before you shove past him into the mudroom, kicking off your shoes as you go and ignoring Kankri's indignant exclamation as you sit Gamzee down to yank his own shoes off, dragging him up again and storming into the house as soon as it is accomplished. Gamzee's practically tripping over his own feet at this point, but the only thing that really concerns you at the moment is warming him up and avoiding talking to as many people as possible. A stern voice stops you in your tracks,

"Karkat Vantas! What do you think you're doing?!"

Shit. You're being sure your stomach just took up an occupation as a gymnast, then proceeded to do a flying flip into the center of the Earth. You turn around, forcing yourself to look Dolores in the eye. Dolores was your dad's adoptive mother, and she somehow had the energy to adopt two daughters after he left home to become a preacher. In short, she was no one to fuck with. You force the reply,

"Grant dumped Gamzee's ass on the sidewalk! He would have frozen his non existent tits off if I hadn't-"

"Language, please..."

Your father appears behind her, his grey eyes not even remotely surprised as he looks at Gamzee, his red hair combed back neatly. You would have continued, but your thoughts now mainly consist of Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, so you don't really have much choice but to keep your mouth shut.

"Karkat, we talked about cursing in front of your grandmother. And please refer to Gamzee's father as Mr. Makara, it is courteous."

This clears your head, and you snap back,

"But he's an ignorant sack of shit who's major accomplishments involve starting a cult revolving around getting high on mushrooms and DMT and wearing face paint! What part of that warrants a 'Mister', as if I have an inch of respect for him hidden in the deepest crevices of my-"

"Karkat. No matter what you think of him, everyone deserves respect for something. Everyone is equal in their own right, do not talk like you are better than him."

"Who in the name of fuck said that doesn't call stupid people 'mister' equals insane shit eating fanatic tripping on acid?!"

"I'm not going to discuss this with you again Karkat. Now, will you please tell me why-"

"I told you, Grant locked his ass out of the-"

"Silas! Karkat! Both of you, be silent. Karkat, get that boy upstairs! I'll be right up, and Silas, you and your son can discuss this later, but that child obviously needs a place to stay, and we WILL provide."

You immediately shut up. The tall, slim African woman draws to her full height, and you swear, a lightning strike behind her couldn't make her more intimidating than she is now. There is a simultaneous murmur of "Yes Grandma" and "Yes Mother", and even Gamzee seems to have gained awareness of the going ons, looking a bit confused, and a bit more terrified. You start to inch towards the stairs, and before you know it Mrs. Maryam is beside you, holding Gamzee up and lightening the load considerably as you ascend the stairs. You don't know how she does it, but you are silently thankful for her getting you out of your situation a bit sooner than you would have. Plus, she's always been better at taking care of people than you or your father. You go down the hall, reaching the bathroom. Gamzee is murmuring things under his breath, and you wearily give his hand a small squeeze, just to let him know you're there; it doesn't do much, but he seems to calm down a little as you enter the bathroom. Dolores quickly turns him towards her, sitting him on the ground and beginning to take off the thin t-shirt, speaking sternly as she does so,

"Karkat, turn on the water. Make sure it's warm before you fill the tub."

You nod even though she can't see you, and turn on the water, rolling up the sleeves of your too big hand-me-down sweater to test its temperature. When you're satisfied it's hot enough, you put the plug in place, turning away as soon as you're confident it's filling up. Gamzee is stripped down at this point, and she gently helps him into the tub, which is half full. His eyes are half open now, and they widen a little at the sight of Dolores before you gently rest your hand on his shoulder to let him know you're there. He relaxes at this, allowing Dolores to shift his body so he can be comfortable in the tub. His deep brown eyes are a little less clouded, and some color starts going back into his skin. He smiles lazily up at you and Dolores, speaking in a soft voice,

"Sup Karbro. Who's this wicked chica I suddenly up and got my motherfucking peep on for?"

You sigh slightly. It was going to be a long night,

"Gamzee, this is Mrs. Maryam. You met her before, remember?"

He stares at her blurrily for a few more seconds, before smiling slightly in recognition,

"Ahh yeah… I up and remember you… got in a wicked motherfucking shoutfest with dad…"

You feel a twist in your gut, watching carefully for Dolores's reaction. There was only one person she had shouted at in the recent years, and she was not stupid. She raises an eyebrow, her face not betraying anything as she pours some shampoo onto her hands. You inwardly roll your eyes. Count on Dolores to wash his hair/tumbleweed while on this topic.

"'Dad'? Do you by chance mean Grant Makara? Close your eyes for a moment dear…"

She begins to work the shampoo into his dark brown hair, and he nods slightly, relaxing,

"Yeah… that's him. Runs that motherfucking cult, knows the Fishsis's mom."

Her eyes are narrowing, and her mouth pulls into a frown; not one of anger, rather one of concern. This doesn't surprise you as much as it should have; you wouldn't blame anyone who had been ten feet of that jackass to be worried about his kids,

"I see. And who is this 'Fishsis', may I ask?"

"Feferi Peixes."

The words tumble out of your mouth before you realize it, and you wish you could pull them back. There was no particular reason, aside from the fact that Dolores's attention was on you now, and you'd undoubtedly be getting interrogated later. She nods slightly at you, whether in simple acknowledgement, thanks, or approval, you don't really care. She already knew about the Peixes. The mother was the head of this massive baking company; you'd never met her personally, but she practically ran the town. She was a massive brand name; the entire nation bought her shit, and she lived in a literal palace on the outskirts of town by the beach. And by fuck, did Dolores hate her guts. She had everyone of a lot of importance to authority bribed, so people connected to her stayed out of any legal trouble. Among those people was Grant, or he without a shit sliver of doubt would be behind bars. Dolores continues, turning the water to the shower setting as she rinses him off,

"I see. Do you two get along?"

"Oh yeah, she's all up and motherfucking nice. One of the best little motherfucking chicas I ever got the knowing of. Likes my drawings a lot."

He smiles slightly, rubbing his head a little. Dolores smiles a little at this, but shakes her head as she begins to put the washcloth to his face, scrubbing off the smeared makeup.

"I was talking about your father, dear."

He squeezes his eyes shut, wincing a little as she scrubs. You notice quickly, and make a gesture to take the washcloth,

"Hey, Grandma. I can do this, I've done it before."

You tug at the washcloth, and she obliges, putting a bit more soap on it before she gives it to you. You take his lower jaw in one hand, and put the washcloth right next to his nose, gently bringing it to the outside of his face. It's sort of a ritual to you two, if you're actually around to take his facepaint off. Gentle strokes of the washcloth, center of his face, to outside. He relaxes a great deal, and leans into the touch, as a cat does when scratched behind the ears. It's kind of adorable in a way, although there's not a chance in fuck you'd ever admit it. Dolores watches you for a moment, smiling slightly, before turning back to Gamzee,

"Well? What's your father like?"

Gamzee opens his eyes a crack, before closing them again and speaking in a more lulled tone,

"Well… motherfucking isn't up and home much… usually with the Fishsis's mom. Or he's giving the miraculous motherfucking news to his motherfucking brothers. Communing with the Messiahs, giving the wicked fucking truth out. Kurloz goes with him, so up and live on my own for the motherfucking most part."

You squeeze out the washcloth and get some more soap on it as the three scars become visible, stealing a look at Dolores as you do. She has a completely neutral expression, but you can practically feel how livid she is. You hate abusive parents; shit, everyone with half a brain did. Dolores on the other hand, took hatred of bad parenting to a whole new level. Grant, you knew, was about as fit to be a parent as Kankri was to be a terrorist negotiator; Gamzee was living proof of that. And Dolores hated Grant enough already for what he did around town… now here you were, dragging home his sixteen year old kid back to the house because Gamzee was sitting there, no one home, completely out of it on the frozen ass sidewalk. Normally Dolores was pretty cool headed and motherly, but fuck, you hoped she didn't do anything like… oh, you don't know, fucking kidnap him. You turn back to Gamzee, continuing to wash off the half cleaned face paint, and from behind you, you hear her let out a breath,

"Dear… where is your mother, in all of this?"

"What… mom? Never knew her all that well. I wasn't even able to motherfucking walk." You hear a slight chuckling noise from him, "Dad still motherfucking lived in Brazil, and Kurloz used to say that she went out to sea when no one was around. Never motherfucking came back."

"Oh… I'm sorry, that must be hard for you…"

You hear genuine sorrow in her voice at this, but Gamzee just shakes his head slightly, murmuring drowsily,

"Nah, it's all kinds of alright with me. I like to think she's got all her fucking happy on, wherever she's motherfucking at."

Gamzee has a small smile twitching at the corners of his lips, and his features are even more relaxed than before, bordering on sleep. You consider shaking him slightly, just to make sure he doesn't fall asleep in the tub, but Dolores stands before you can, speaking in a businesslike tone,

"Karkat, I think the face paint's all off. I'll get a towel, turn off the water…"

You turn to watch her walk away, catching the sadness on her face as she strides away, before you focus your attention back on Gamzee, the water trickling to a stop as you turn the knob. Gamzee doesn't move. You shake his shoulder slightly, jostling him a little in the tub, speaking softly as you do,

"Hey. Gamzee, wake your ass up."

You shake him a little harder, and he groans a little, his face taking on a borderline pained expression. Worry clutches at you, and you stop, instead putting a hand on his back,

"Shit… you okay Gamzee?"

He's panting slightly, and before you know it he's grabbing at your hand,

"Motherfuck… shit's all up and getting all fucking kinds of dizzy…"

Fuck… not again… You swallow nervously, and rub his back,

"Shit… okay, just hang on Gamzee, alright? How long's it been since you ate?"

He shrugs, his breathing starting to pick up. Shit…

"I think I had… some soda… this morning… and… some brownies..."

"And were they or were they not stuffed to the fucking brim with that god-awful shit nature had the audacity to call a plant?"

He hesitates, taking in a few breaths, before nodding,

"I couldn't help it bro… know how it is… have one, you just can't stop… just makes things happy, you know? Can't blame a motherfucker..."

You're about to vehemently argue the point, but just then, you hear Dolores sweep in, with a towel and a bottle of cranberry juice, a worried expression on her face,

"What's wrong Karkat?"

You nearly cringe at the thought of having to tell her, but before you can, she's cracking open the bottle and administering it to Gamzee in small sips, murmuring something about blood pressure. Gamzee, you notice, is trying to gulp it, but every time he tries Dolores draws it away a little, speaking to Gamzee softly. You feel like your going to be sick. Gamzee'd been doing that shitty drug for almost as long as you knew him, if not longer, and you'd known him for four fucking years. He was stoned practically every second of his life, and even if he wasn't, he was still under the effects of it. You hated it whenever he was, because you knew that he wasn't in his right mind. He rambled incoherently, was apathetic to the going ons around him. On the other side of things, if he was actually coherent, he was resentful whenever the topic of his father came up, and he was startled and on guard too easily. He shook, and was riddled with headaches and nausea from dependence on the stuff. He'd been eating and smoking the stuff more as of late, just to be rid of the symptoms, and it killed you to watch him do that to himself. You wouldn't admit it. You couldn't, because you knew Gamzee. If he knew how much it pained you to watch him, he'd try to quit by himself, just to show you he could. You didn't just know this because of guess work; it had happened, only a year prior. All that needed to be said was that the only reason charges weren't pressed was because of Constance's protection of Grant, so the records were wiped clean as soon as it happened. It sufficed to say your dad had now been joined by Disa, Nepeta's mom and Dad's girlfriend, to get Gamzee away from his father at least. As for Equius… his father, Darius, had since cut all ties to the Makara family, if Nepeta was to be believed. Gamzee himself hated to talk about the incident. He had been more careless after that, his mood much more unstable, and you found yourself bringing him back home after finding him rambling mindlessly about some dumbass religion on the street more often than not, sometimes after searching for over thirty minutes. As for you, you couldn't really bring yourself to hate Gamzee. It was your own fault for pressuring him so much, for not keeping a closer eye on him. Your father had told you the day it happened; he would let you make your own choices. He trusted that you would do the right thing, no matter what happened. You look at Gamzee now, shaking like a leaf and grasping your hand like a lifeline. What happened to the real happiness that used to dwell inside him? You wonder, as Dolores takes away the juice, and gestures for you to help him up. You hold under his shoulders, helping him to stand. The towel cloaks him, and he leans up against you to keep himself from falling as you help him out of the tub, a pool of water gathering under the two of you and soaking your bare feet. You put your left arm around his back to grasp his arm, also holding his other one tightly as you leave the bathroom, heading towards your bedroom. You'd bought an extra pair of pajamas ages ago, when you realized him staying over was not going to be an uncommon occurrence, and you couldn't keep letting him wear Dad's to bed. As you slip through the door, Dolores sweeps in, holding the half finished bottle of juice and a smaller towel, setting the juice by your bedstead as you sit Gamzee down at the foot of your bed, still wrapped up. You turn your attention to your drawer, opening it with a bang and rummaging through it to find Gamzee's pajamas. Since you barely ever fold your clothes, no matter how much Dad says you should, it takes a good thirty seconds of pitching certain items of clothing onto the floor before you manage to find the pajamas. You bought the first ones you could find in Gamzee's size, who, unfortunately, was a fucking beanstalk despite his malnourishment and strict "sugary shit straight from Willy Wonka's asshole" diet. As fate would have it, you wound up with purple polka-dotted ones, which you swore were made out of the exact same stuff as Jade's dumbass stuffed Squiddles, and just as attractive to look at. You yank them out of the drawer, a few socks falling out with it, and you turn around to find Dolores drying Gamzee's hair. Gamzee is slumped over, eyes glazed. You'd dragged him back stoned before, but this was one of the worse times. You make a mental note to ask him just how many shit brownies he had, and how much of that sugary rainbow piss he drank. It'd sure explain why he was half conscious and more hungover than Eridan's dad on a Saturday morning (if Eridan was to be believed; you know very well he has a pageant for melodrama). You wait for Dolores to finish drying Gamzee's hair, which now looks more like a tumbleweed than usual (although more fluffy as well), and waste no time in pulling his arms into the shirt, and buttoning it up, leaving the top part open since you know he hates having things around his neck. Dolores takes the pants from you after Gamzee has the shirt on, and helps Gamzee into them as he mumbles incoherent bullshit under his breath. You sigh quietly, half dragging him into a lying down position on the bed, pulling the covers from under him and covering him up to his chin. Whenever he comes over, you two tend to share a bed; the first reason being it's either that or sharing one with Kankri, and the second being that if you aren't there in the morning, Gamzee's liable to do something stupid; for example, waking up, flipping headfirst into a pool of delirium born of hunger due to eating jack shit but sugar the previous day, and spending a solid ten minutes tearing up your room looking for pot before you come in and rip his dumbass a new one. The first time you decided to was about a year before Gamzee's breakdown.

It had been awkward back then, not to mention annoying; Gamzee had snuggled right up to you, cuddly little asshole that he was, smeared the remnants of the clown shit you missed all over your pajamas, and had you waking up to him squeezing you like a stuffed animal. Your father had walked in on you, and promptly attempted to give you "the talk" before you cussed him out and got your phone taken away for a week (at least he said it would be a week… it was given back the next day). Honestly though, now that you got used to it, it really wasn't that bad. It was almost comforting to have him there. It was like having a security blanket, sort of, and sometimes, if you had a bad day, and had to get him that night, you felt yourself subconsciously reciprocating, to your everlasting embarrassment. Thank fuck he fell asleep quickly. As you watch him, you see he's already falling asleep, and shake him a little, whispering as his eyes open a crack,

"Gamzee, I'm going to brush my teeth. You can use this, I'll be back in a second."

You turn, as the sudden thought comes to your head. Dolores has left already apparently, and you crouch, reaching under your bed, then pull out one of the many Squiddles Jade sent you for your birthday. You keep telling her you threw them away, and when she came over to watch movies with you you had stuffed them all under your bed. Guess you never really got around to pulling them out, but whatever. Gamzee smiles as you give him the stuffed toy, hugging it to him as you go to the bathroom. You grab your PJs as you go out (also Squiddle patterned), and start to head to the bathroom, when, as your incredible luck would have it, your phone buzzes in your pocket with a text. Growling, you stop and look who it is; the caller reads AT. Jesus Christ… out of the horrendous and incredibly pointless shitty human emotion of a fucking leak of compassion, you begin to text back.

adiosToreador began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: WHAT IS IT? THIS IS NOT A FUCKING GOOD TIME MAN.

You pause as you read your text. "What is it?" That was fucking obvious...

AT: wELL, uH, gAMZEE ISN'T PICKING UP SO i, uHH, cALLED YOU UP FOR REALLY OBVIOUS REASONS,,,

CG: I'M NOT AN IDIOT, I KNOW WHY YOU CALLED.

AT: ,,,tHEN WHY DID YOU ASK WHAT i WANTED,,,

CG: I WAS FUCKING ON AUTOKARKAT.

AT: ,,,wHAT? }:/

CG: ZOOM. DANGER: KARKAT RUNNING AROUND WITHOUT A FUCKING DRIVER. PLEASE REVERT TO AUTOKARKAT BY PRESSING THE NON SUSPICIOUS BIG RED BUTTON THAT DEFINITELY WON'T BLOW EVERYTHING TO HELL BY PRESSING IT.

AT: ,,,

AT: uMM, oKAY THEN, lIKE i WAS sAYING, dO YOU BY CHANCE KNOW WHERE gAMZEE IS? i'M GETTING KIND OF WORRIED ABOUT HIM,,, hE USUALLY PICKS UP,

CG: TAKE A GOOD GUESS. REALLY HAVE A DEEP FUCKING PHILOSOPHICAL DEBATE WITH YOURSELF. WHERE THE FUCK COULD THAT BRAINLESS SHITMIME BE IF HE ISN'T ANSWERING YOU.

AT: ,,, sO HE'S WITH YOU THEN?

CG: DING DING! CONGRATULATIONS, YOU WIN JACK SHIT BECAUSE THE ANSWER IS AS OBVIOUS AS THE HAND IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING FACE.

AT: iS HE OKAY? }:(

CG: ALL I HAVE TO GODDAMN SAY IS THAT IF HE WAS ANYMORE OUT OF IT HE'D BE HAVING A FUCKING OUT OF BODY EXPERIENCE.

AT: oH,,, tHAT'S REALLY UNFORTUNATE,,,

CG: NO, IT WAS THE GREATEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED IN THE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE.

CG: NO SHIT IT'S UNFORTUNATE.

AT: ,,, uMM,,, cAN YOU JUST TELL HIM TO CALL ME WHEN HE'S FEELING ALRIGHT?

CG: WHY?

AT: i, uHH, dON'T THINK THAT'S ANY OF YOUR BUSINESS, tHE ONLY REASON i, uM, tEXTED WAS BECAUSE YOUR gAMZEE'S NEXT BEST FRIEND,

CG: LET'S GET ONE THING STRAIGHT HERE BEFORE I CONTINUE.

CG: HE IS MY FIRST BEST FRIEND.

You turn red as you realize what you just texted.

CG: FUCK IGNORE THAT.

CG: I NEVER FUCKING SAID ANYTHING. YOU ARE NOW OFFICIALLY BLIND TO THIS WALL OF TEXT HERE. IT LITERALLY NEVER HAPPENED IN THE HISTORY OF THE GALAXY.

AT: uHH, aLRIGHT, i WILL,

AT: mOSTLY BECAUSE IT ISN'T, uHH, TRUE };)

CG: I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT BECAUSE I SAID NOTHING TO MAKE YOU SAY THAT.

CG: I'LL FUCKING TELL YOUR BOYFRIEND TO CALL YOU. HAPPY NOW?

AT: uHH,,,

AT: hE ISN'T MY BOYFRIEND,

AT: iT SEEMS LIKE YOU, uH, aRE STOOPING TO THE LEVEL OF, uM, sAYING WE ARE ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED TO, uHH, fLUSTER ME, iN AN ATTEMPT TO WIN THIS, uH, sTANDOFF OF SORTS, wHICH i HAVE WON BY THIS POINT,,,, sO, yOU MIGHT AS WELL GIVE UP, }:)

CG: IF THOSE WORDS WERE ANY FARTHER FROM THE TRUTH YOU'D FUCKING FALL OFF THE EDGE OF THE ENTIRE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. THE WHOLE ONE MILLION FUCKING FEET.

AT: uHH,,,

CG: OH SHIT.

CG: FUCK. I DIDN'T MEAN…

CG: GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.

AT: nO, iT'S OKAY,

AT: i THOUGHT FOR A SECOND THAT WAS, uH, pURPOSEFUL,

AT: yOU WOULDN'T GO THAT LOW THOUGH,

AT: i HOPE,,, }:(

CG: NO!

CG: SHIT, IT WAS ACCIDENTAL.

CG: I WASN'T REFERENCING THE FACT THAT YOU WERE…

CG: FUCK!

AT: iT'S ALRIGHT, i'M FINE WITH NOT WALKING,

AT: iT'S JUST, uH, yOU PURPOSELY REFERENCING IT WOULD BE STOOPING KIND OF LOW,,,

AT: iT REALLY DIDN'T BOTHER ME THAT MUCH,,, cAN YOU JUST TELL gAMZEE TO CALL ME?

CG: YEAH, I'LL TELL HIM. JUST MAKE SURE HE DOESN'T FUCKING DO ANYTHING ASININE AND HAVE TO SPEND THE NIGHT HERE AGAIN.

AT: dON'T WORRY, i'LL, uH, mAKE SURE HE DOESN'T GET IN TROUBLE }:)

AT: sO,,, uH,,, bYE THEN,

adiosToreador ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

You stand there for a moment, holding your phone. So stupid. Goddamn shit, why didn't you ever fucking think things through before you fucking said them? Yeah, you didn't necessarily LIKE Tavros. Hell, you didn't dislike him either. Dislike him for what? Hanging out with Gamzee? How immature would that be? And speaking of immature, "first best friend"? Honestly, you sounded like a kindergartener. You were fucking tired, and stressed from Gamzee's condition. That was all there was to it, you think, as you brush your teeth. You finish in a short time, possibly stripping several layers of gums from your mouth, change into your grey pajamas, and take out your dark contacts, blurring the world to you until you put on the grey framed glasses. You try to avoid the sight of your pinkish eyes as you examine the roots of your hair. You'd have to dye it black again soon; the pale roots were starting to show themselves, after about three weeks. You knew not many people cared about it; in fact, you weren't even picked on before you started to dye. Hell, Dave wasn't picked on. Then again, if Egbert was going to be believed, not many people talked to Dave, save for the ones you knew. Whatever. The point was apparently no one cared at your school; even if they did, the fear of Gamzee's wrath (which was much more frequent after the incident) and Sollux's hacking skills kept them away regardless. Rose said it was a self esteem issue, and that you had a predetermined view of how normal people should look. Then again, she also said to come to her mother's house at four o'clock after school every Tuesday, sessions free. You went once. And only once. Sighing through your nose, you pitched your clothes in the laundry basket (as missed by several miles), and headed back to your room, where Gamzee had conked out. You take off your glasses, slowly easing into the bed next to him, careful not to wake him, and as if by instinct, he abandons the Squiddle and cuddles up to you, wrapping his arms around your chest and nuzzling into your neck. Discreetly, you hug him back, finding yourself relaxing into the lanky guy. His mess of hair tickles under your chin, and you find yourself falling asleep to his soft breathing. The last thing you think you hear before conscious leaves you is a soft, content murmur of,

"Night Karbro…"

**((A/N: Well, take took a while. If you have any requests, I'll be happy to oblige, and if you don't, well, I hope you enjoyed the fic :3 Constructive criticism is welcome. If you are a reader of my other fics, I'm real sorry, my computer died, and all my documents with it D: I'll try to update this one when I can. :D)) **


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